


Lavender

by nemvous



Series: Just Shout [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex?, Semi Public Sex?, Shameless Smut, idk they fuck in a lavender field, thats it, thats the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 17:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemvous/pseuds/nemvous
Summary: Her hands, so warm and strong, settled on his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck, gripping and pulling him ever closer. She smelled of lavender and leather, and something else that was fresh as mountain air. He kissed her there, on the smooth column of her neck where she liked it most, and her body buzzed beneath his.“Out here, Arthur?” Her voice was breathy when it hit his ears, and he smiled against her skin."We're hidden well enough."~.~.~.~Stand-alone smut fic of my OC Josephine and our favorite cowboah. Their relationship is established in my fic Ebb and Flow, though it is not necessary to read that before reading this. Enjoy!





	Lavender

Josephine wasn’t the type of woman to enjoy, well,  _ womanly _ things. Arthur had known that since they were young when she traded skirts for pants, chores for stealing and pickpocketing, and a sewing kit for guns. She was a woman, sure, there was absolutely no doubt about that, Arthur thought as he watched the lovely sway of her backside and hips as she walked in front of him. But she cursed like a sailor and sometimes drank like one too. She was unafraid of violence and would stare down the barrel of a gun with a grin, every bit as confident and cocksure as any man could be. She’d been raised under the hand of Dutch, just like himself. Of course, she was confident. 

Josephine Davis was unlike any woman Arthur had ever met. She was nothing like Mary, or Eliza, or Miss Grimshaw or any other woman that had been connected somehow to Arthur’s life. It’s what attracted him to her so, what made him warm her in bed every night and protect her even if she didn’t need no protecting. 

Josephine didn’t enjoy womanly things much, but the unbridled awe on her face as he showed her the lavender field made his heart warm with happiness. He walked just behind her left shoulder, watching her face as they trekked deeper into the field. The stems of the flowers reached high, flicking along the high parts of their hips and thighs. 

“How did you find this place, Arthur?” His beloved asked, stopping to pick the stem of a particularly tall stock, raising the flowers to her nose and inhaling. 

“Was just wanderin’,” he said, sniffing the flower when Josephine turned and offered it to his nose. “I saw all the purple through the trees and had to come to take a look.” 

Josephine picked one of the flowers off of the bunch and rubbed it between her fingers. Somehow, despite living the same life as Arthur, Josephine’s hands were almost always clean and free of dirt and grime. They were calloused, sure, but he rarely saw dirt caking around her nails and dirtying those pretty hands of hers. She lifted her fingers to her nose and sighed out, then rubbed her fingers along her wrist and neck, spreading the lovely scent across her skin. 

She looked pretty, doing that. She almost looked like a proper lady, one who scented herself with perfumes and potions in front of her vanity every morning. Josephine was a woman, but it was rare to see her participating in such womanly little actions. 

Arthur committed the sight of her to memory to draw in his journal later. 

Josephine flicked her hair over her shoulder, the dark strands hanging loose and wild today. She tucked a smaller sprig of lavender behind her ear, and Arthur’s cheeks went red at the look of her. Oh, how he planned on marrying this woman. He wanted to see her in a white wedding gown, her hair braided with flowers of every color. 

She turned to him then and nabbed his hat right off of his head. She tucked a few sprigs of the fragrant purple flower into the cords that wrapped around it, and instead of returning it to his head, she seated it right atop her own, a playful grin teasing her lips.

“Gimme that back, woman,” Arthur huffed, scratching a hand through his hair as embarrassment rolled through him. She could see his blush, no doubt, couldn’t hide it without a hat. When Arthur tried to reach out and grab it, she slipped past his arm and frolicked a few paces away. 

“If you want it back so bad, come and get it, cowboy.” 

Oh, it was on, now. 

Arthur chased her down like a wolf chasing a doe. Each time he thought he was close to catching her, she would slip through his fingers, laughing and squealing as she got away. When he finally did catch her, he drew his arms around her in a tight embrace and they fell to the earth like that, tangled up and panting through their laughter. 

His tattered old gamblers hat toppled off of her head when Arthur knocked it off to kiss her. 

Arthur was no young man, not anymore, but Josephine ignited something within him that he thought left with Mary and died with Eliza and his son. With her, things were different. He was only four years her senior, and yet she still held enough youthfulness in her to make Arthur feel totally askew. 

Her lips were soft and yielding under his own, parting like a flower just for him. She tasted of the peaches they’d indulged in earlier, and a flavor that was distinctly  _ Josephine _ . Arthur parted from her mouth and traveled down her neck, following the line that the juice from the peach had followed when it dripped from her lips. Their bodies shifted to accommodate each other, a dance they’d already partaken in plenty, and Arthur held the back of her head and neck when he lowered her to lay back on the ground. 

Her hands, so warm and strong, settled on his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck, gripping and pulling him ever closer. She smelled of lavender and leather, and something else that was fresh as mountain air. He kissed her there, on the smooth column of her neck where she liked it most, and her body buzzed beneath his. 

“Out here, Arthur?” Her voice was breathy when it hit his ears, and he smiled against her skin. He leaned up and met her lips again, always so soft and plush, and felt her hook her legs around his waist. 

“We’re hidden well enough,” he responded when they parted, sparing a glance at the sprigs of lavender concealing them almost entirely. “Just ‘s long as you don’t go squealin’ and moanin’  _ too _ loudly.” 

“Too loudly?” One of her expressive, dark brows lifted, and suddenly the world shifted and Arthur found himself on his back, Josephine settled tightly on his hips. Her hands found his and she pinned them above his head, pressing them into the dirt below. “Me? Well, you oughta strap in, cowboy. I think you might just be the one who’s squealin’ and moanin’ this time around.”

And so, the dance began. 

They rolled in the dirt, pushing each other down, meeting each other's lips, and working off clothes that oughta be off. Arthur’s shirt was thrown in a heap, as was Josephine’s, and her undershirt was worked up over her breasts and under her armpits. They trampled over the poor lavender plants in their wake, rolling and switching who was on top, who was dominating. 

Though Arthur had a feeling regardless of where Josephine was perched, she always had the upper hand. On top of him or beneath him, she always knew just where to touch that would get him just right, get him to go pliant under her. She could get him to do whatever she pleased with just a few soft words and touches or kisses. She was just magic like that, he supposed. 

When he’d worked her pants mostly off and opened up his own, her hand found his member and he moaned, low and quiet into the shared space of their temporary home surrounded by lavender. She tugged on him, slow and firm, just how he liked it, and Arthur swore he’d follow her straight into the fiery pits of Hell if she wished it.

Their positions flipped again and she sat astride his thighs, hand working him expertly as his body responded, small drops of fluid beading at the tip and easing her hands way. Arthur dropped his head against the earth and panted softly, his eyes threatening to close. The sky was blue above him, his vision surrounded by the purple tips of the lavender as it climbed skyward. 

His end was coming, and he warned her with a jerk of his knee and a noise from the back of his throat. 

“Can’t have that, can we, Arthur?” Josephine murmured, her face filling his vision once more. Her hands left him and roamed up his chest, nails scraping over his skin in a way that had him preening and sighing. She didn’t move to take him and instead rolled off of him, settling on her back in the dirt next to him. 

Arthur turned his head to gaze upon her face, and the blue of the sky reflected in her pretty hazel irises. She turned to him then, met his gaze, and the smile she offered him was blinding and beautiful.

Arthur could look at nothing but her for the rest of his life and die a happy man. 

Her face changed then, her eyelashes fluttering and her mouth parting softly. Arthur’s eyes shifted down, following the line of her arm, down, down, down until he reached her wrist, and found where her hand disappeared between her legs. He could see her arm moving now, her wrist shifting as she worked herself with her fingers. The soft sound of her wetness hit his ears and Arthur sat up, curious and lustful as he shifted enough to watch her play with herself. 

She’d never done that before, Arthur realized as he watched her ease her fingers in and out of herself, glistening and wet from her essence. She’d never touched herself in front of Arthur so openly before. When they’d first been together, she had guided Arthur’s fingers, showing him what she liked, what felt the best. After that, Arthur had learned her body and played it as if it had come naturally to him. But now, as she buried her fingers deeper inside of herself and ground the palm of her hand against her clit, Arthur felt like he’d stumbled upon the mightiest of treasures. 

“Arthur,” she called, her voice oh so soft and breathy, drawing his gaze up to her face. Their eyes locked and Josephine moaned, head falling back against the earth. 

Arthur’s hands found her thighs, but he didn’t dare stop her. His eyes followed the line of her body, taking in her heaving chest and belly, the small curve of her breasts, nipples now stiff from the gentle breeze that blew across their naked skin. He counted every mole and freckle on the way down, feeling her eyes on him again as he found the place between her legs and watched her. 

His hands wandered up and down her thighs, thumbs rubbing the soft skin. The closer he got to where her hand was, the more her thighs shifted and trembled. He got low, low enough to use his thumbs to pull her lower lips apart slightly, and her body jerked so hard he thought she was going to shatter. 

Arthur knew her end was drawing near, had learned the signs of it through the way her breathing quickened, her noises grew quieter, and in the way her body drew taut like a bowstring. Her hand’s movements were frantic now, and Arthur watched her face pinch and mouth open when her end finally came with a dazzling punched out moan. 

Her back arched up off the ground and Arthur was struck by how  _ beautiful _ she was like this. Her knees pressed together, knocking his hands away, but Arthur couldn’t take his eyes away from her face. As she came back to herself, her eyes slowly opened and found his, looking positively blissed out and dreamy. 

She pulled her hand away from herself and Arthur had the mind to catch her wrist and slip her fingers into his mouth. He sucked her essence from them, savoring the flavor, sweeter than honey, and savoring the way Josephine’s face turned red. He sucked her fingers clean and released her, wishing he could taste her right from the source, but he saved that for another time.

Josephine’s legs parted to cradle him between her thighs, and Arthur dropped down on his forearms to meet her lips again. When she reached down and guided him inside, their lips parted in separate sighs as Arthur sank into her, her velvet walls still fluttering from the end she’d already reached. Their foreheads and noses bumped together, breaths mingling as they came together as one and settled as close as two bodies possibly could be. 

“Ouch!” Josephine wailed suddenly, body lurching up. Their foreheads knocked together and Arthur groaned, sitting up and away from her. He rubbed his forehead and looked down at him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, alarmed through the slight pain the accidental headbutt caused. 

“There’s somethin’,” her face twisted and she reached under herself, grappling for something unseen under her back. “Somethin’ pokin’ me in the back.”

Arthur watched her until she pulled a sprig of lavender out from under her, it’s stem bent and broken and the flowers flat from being laid on. She tossed it away and fell back, then began to laugh. Her land lifted up and rubbed her forehead, where a small circular red mark now rested. 

“I gotchu good, didn’t I?” Josephine giggled, reaching up to touch the tender spot on his forehead. Arthur joined her in laughter and shook his head. 

“I consider myself lucky,” Arthur laughed, still seated inside of her. “I seen you break noses with that forehead of yours.”

Her eyes found him and she blinked, then burst out laughing again. She reached up and Arthur felt her fingers in his hair, tugging something free. Her hand came back holding a flattened chunk of lavender, and the sight of it made Arthur begin to laugh, too. Maybe making love in a lavender field was more romantic in theory than in practice.

“We look like a coupla right fools,” Josephine chuckled, shuffling her hips until Arthur slid out of her. “Better hope no one comes out here to take us to the loony bin.” She grabbed Arthur’s discarded shirt and laid it out on the smashed stocks, then laid back on it. Her face contorted in discomfort before she was moving again, rolling up onto her hands and knees and facing away from him. 

Arthur preferred to face her, loved to watch Josephine’s face as they made love, but as he slid into her deeper than either of them were used to, the lovely little moan Josephine gave him made up for it. Arthur gazed down on her back, taking in the sight of her smooth skin now dotted in dirt and little purple flowers. He tucked the sight away to draw later before he used his palm to knock it all away. 

This seemed to make Josephine grow impatient and she threw her hips back, forcing a punched out moan from Arthur’s throat. His hands found her hips then and he began the dance, slow at first, listening to Josephine’s responsive little moans and whines before he too grew impatient and picked up the pace. 

Their music was unlike any other. 

Arthur listened to and relished the sounds of their lovemaking; the soft slap of flesh on flesh, their heavy breathing and moans, and the constant  _ shh _ of the lavender around them as it swayed in the wind. 

“Arthur, Arthur,” it was a warning, Arthur knew. He was just about there, too, caught up in his own head and the primal needs they were both drawing from each other.

Arthur reached around her hip and under her, body curling over hers and caging her in. When his hand found the apex of her thighs, his fingers found that precious little bundle of nerves and began to work it quickly, sending sweet curses and filthy moans flying from her mouth. 

She found her end with a dazzling cry, and the fluttering of her body around him sent Arthur spiraling towards his. He pulled out of her and jerked himself, slick from the wetness of Josephine’s body. Arthur spent himself over her backside and thighs, groaning low in his throat. He leaned over her again, following her as she laid out under him. He pressed his forehead between her shoulder blades and panted against her skin, which was warm and damp from their little romp. 

They said nothing, didn’t have to, and merely panted softly and collected themselves, until Josephine made a soft noise and twisted below him. Arthur lifted his weight and allowed her to move, eyes finding her face when she settled on her back. There, on her forehead pressed delicately to her skin, sat a tiny purple flower. 

Arthur picked it off as delicately as possible and when he pulled it back to show her, she barked out a laugh and lurched up to kiss him. It was soft and sweet and Arthur cupped her cheeks, never wanting it to end. 

“You take me out here just to bed me, Arthur Morgan?” Josephine asked, amused as she cupped his cheeks and ran her thumbs across his sun-kissed skin.

“Didn’t cross my mind, ‘till we ended up on the ground.” 

Her lips curled into a pretty smile and she looped her arms around his neck. He leaned down to kiss her again, ever the victim of her soft lips and love. 

Slowly but surely, they pulled away and began to get dressed, returning clothes to the proper parts and righting themselves. When Arthur picked his shirt up off the ground and inspected it, he found stains of purple and green streaking up the back. 

“The boys’ll think I was the one who gave you a green gown this time,” Josephine grinned, and Arthur’s mind was taken back to the time when Sean, Javier, and John had heckled Josephine for having grass stains track up her back. 

And she was right. 

After they fled the lavender field—not before taking a few handfuls of sprigs along with them—and returned to camp, Arthur didn’t hear the end of it, of how his lady had given him the green gown. Even Mary-Beth and Karen had tittered at him when he dropped the shirt in the laundry to be washed. 

But, Arthur thought as he laid tangled with Josephine on their cot with his nose buried against her neck, her skin smelling strongly of lavender and her hair still woven with the flowers, it was a memory Arthur would not soon forget.


End file.
